


Sweet Taste Is Gone

by GotTheSilver



Series: Supernatural Codas [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Domestic, Episode Related, Episode: s12e05 The One You've Been Waiting For, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: post 12.05*
  “I killed Hitler.”

  “Have you been time travelling without me?” Cas asks, squinting at Dean.

  “No, I—reanimation, Nazis, Hitler’s great something granddaughter, honestly Cas it was a damn shitshow.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> in which I take a throwaway line and end up writing this.
> 
> [on tumblr](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com/post/153138364487/1205-coda-deancas-16k)

The thrill of killing Hitler has worn off by the time they make it back to the bunker; there’s a couple of boxes of pie in the backseat of the Impala, and Dean drops them off in the kitchen before waving goodnight to Sam and heading towards his room. Crouching down, he pulls out Led Zeppelin and puts on the first side, dropping the needle and letting Good Times Bad Times wash over him as he goes through his nighttime routine.

Even as he washes his face in the old porcelain sink, there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that’s been sitting there since that Nazi kid mentioned horcruxes. Dean knows what it is, but if anyone’s good at compartmentalising and denial, it’s him. Opening the medicine cabinet, he grabs his toothpaste, smearing it on his toothbrush and trying to ignore the feelings that are bubbling up in his chest.

Dean’s just spat out the last of the foam in his mouth when there’s a tap at the door of his bedroom, brow furrowing, he opens it to find Cas standing there and the sight of him is like a weight falling off his shoulders.

“I thought you were chasing a lead,” Dean says as he steps back to let Cas in, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That you wouldn’t be back for a couple days.”

“Yes, well, apparently people being terrified of teenagers wearing eyeliner is not a sign of Lucifer reappearing.”

Dean pauses, unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Suffice to say, all I got out of that trip was having to fill the gas tank and an urge to punch Crowley in the face,” Cas says, shrugging out of his trenchcoat and hanging it on one of the pegs on the wall. “It was frustrating.”

Dean switches the record player off before he sits on the bed to unlace his boots, “Sounds it.” Looking over at Cas, he feels his face soften at the sight of him, suit jacket still on, tie a little askew. “Take the jacket off,” he says, patting the space beside him. “Sit down, you look like you’re going to bolt.”

“You look exhausted,” Cas says as he takes his jacket off, draping it across the chair before sitting next to Dean. “What happened today?”

“I killed Hitler.”

“Have you been time travelling without me?” Cas asks, squinting at Dean.

“No, I—reanimation, Nazis, Hitler’s great something granddaughter, honestly Cas it was a damn shitshow.”

“But you killed Hitler.”

“Shot him right in the head,” Dean says, kicking his boots off and standing up, walking over to the stack of clean clothes he hasn’t had time to put away yet. “It was kinda satisfying.” Pulling out a pair of pj pants, he shucks his jeans and tugs the pj pants on before stripping his t-shirt off and dropping it in the laundry basket. Resting his hands on his hips, Dean looks at Cas. “You staying here?”

“If you want me.”

It’s the most ridiculous statement, and Dean lets a small smile cross his face before he closes the gap between them, leaning down to kiss Cas softly. “Of course I do,” he says, his hand seeking out Cas’ fingers, squeezing them tightly before letting go. “Take your clothes off.”

Cas nods, reaching up to unknot his tie, and Dean knows he’s going to be responsible for fixing it in the morning because Cas still hasn’t learnt how to. Part of Dean thinks that he should teach Cas how to tie it properly, especially if he’s going to be out talking to people by himself, but a much larger part likes the fact that he gets to do this for Cas, that it’s something Dean _can_ do for Cas.

“Here,” Dean says, putting a pair of pj pants that are a little too big for him on the bed. “You want a shirt?”

“No,” Cas says, as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt. “I’ll be fine.” He stands up, removing the rest of his clothes quickly and Dean can’t take his eyes off Cas standing there completely unselfconscious in his nudity.

“Pants,” Dean says, eyes flitting over Cas’ body. “On the bed, for you.” Dean knows he’s allowed to look at Cas when he’s like this, has been allowed to for a while, but their lives have been so goddamn fucked for so long that it still feels new. Still feels like someone is gonna take this away from him.

“Have you heard from Mary?” Cas asks as he gets the pj pants on. “Is that why—”

“Don’t mention my mom while you’re half naked, Cas,” Dean interrupts, tugging the blankets down on the bed. “Please.”

There’s a small huff of amusement from Cas, and he rubs his hand against his forehead. “You’re bothered about something,” Cas says. “I can tell.”

Dean makes a face as he climbs into bed. “Hit the light,” he says as he switches the bedside lamp on. “And it’s—I don’t know.”

The bed dips as Cas gets on it, sitting up with his back against the headboard, looking down at where Dean’s head rests on his pillow. If Dean shuffles closer, he could press his face against Cas’ hip, and he kind of wants to do that; to let his fingers seek out the heat of Cas’ skin, tug down the pj pants and let himself get lost in the taste of Cas on his tongue. He does shuffle closer, but only so he can rest his head against Cas’ thigh, sighing when Cas’ fingers automatically start threading through his hair.

“This Nazi kid, he made a crack about Harry Potter and I—it made me think of Charlie.”

“Oh.” Cas’ hands still for a moment before carrying on, the pads of his fingertips pressing against Dean’s temple softly. “I liked Charlie,” he says, and Dean can hear the smile in Cas’ voice. “She was so bright, her love of life shone through. Oranges and purple. A little red.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, hating the roughness in his voice. “And I got her killed.”

“Dean—”

“I miss her, Cas,” he says, before he can rethink it. “I’ve—we’ve—lost so many people, but Charlie? She didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t get her killed,” Cas says firmly. “She loved you and Sam, nothing could’ve stopped her from trying to help you.”

“I guess,” Dean breathes out, closing his eyes and curling an arm around Cas’ legs. He doesn’t believe it, can’t really believe it because it’s his fault Charlie even got involved in this life, and he wishes so fucking much that she’d been able to escape.

“Did you ever read them?”

“Read what?”

“Harry Potter.”

“No, I—Sam did, the kid drove me mad finding copies when we were travelling. Dad didn’t think he should be reading them, that if he was gonna read mythology then it should at least be about something we might kill.” Dean shifts a little, pushing up into Cas’ fingers. “I guess Metadouche put them in you like everything else.”

“He did,” Cas says. “That’s not the same as reading them, though. I have the information, but I don’t have context. I don’t know what to think about them, what feelings I should have about what happens. It’s—” Cas breaks off with a frustrated sigh. “It’s like how it was before I started questioning heaven. It’s black and white, and I don’t like it.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment. “I was gonna read them,” he says eventually. “Charlie loved ‘em so much that I—I wanted to do it, for her. After she died, I just—I couldn’t bring myself to.”

“I would read them with you, if you decide you want to try.”

“I’d like that,” Dean says, dislodging Cas’s hands as he sits up. The bed isn’t that big, and when they’re both sitting up on their respective sides of the bed, they end up squashed together, and Dean takes some comfort in it; liking the press of Cas’ thigh against his, even somewhat enjoying the way Cas’ elbow hits him in the stomach when Cas reaches for the book he’s been reading that’s stashed on the bedside table. “I would’ve passed you that,” Dean says as Cas straightens up, book in hand, settling back against the headboard.

“You should be going to sleep,” Cas says, fingers finding the crumpled gas station receipt he shoved in between pages to keep his spot.

Dean huffs, resting his head against Cas’ shoulder. “Missed you,” he says quietly, his fingers running up and down Cas’ thigh.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Cas says, knocking his foot against Dean’s leg. “Your back will hurt if you don’t lay down to sleep.”

“M’getting old,” Dean grumbles, even as he moves to lay down, wincing as he twists his knee the wrong way while flopping onto his stomach, his head turned towards Cas. He curls an arm around Cas’ legs, needing to know that Cas is here with him, that he isn’t going anywhere. Without prompting, Cas starts to read aloud from his book, a cheap pulp fiction thing he picked up on the road; Dean isn’t entirely sure what Cas gets from reading it, but lately listening to Cas’ voice has been the only way he’s been able to fall asleep. Tonight is no different and soon, between the cadence of Cas’ voice and the warmth of Cas’ body next to him, Dean drifts into unconsciousness.

*

In the morning, Cas is still there, and so is a mug of coffee and a pile of Harry Potter books. Dean smiles, pulling Cas towards him for an early morning kiss, and takes some measure of comfort in knowing that they can have this; that Cas is always gonna have his back, and he’s always gonna have Cas’ back.

And maybe one day he’ll get to use the grenade launcher.


End file.
